


A Hundred Skyscrapers

by celestial_light



Category: Dragon Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_light/pseuds/celestial_light
Summary: “When you told me, I looked like an angel all those years ago, it wasn’t a compliment. Was it?”OrMerus stops Granolah in his attempt to kill Goku and Vegeta. He offers him something greater than revenge. Life.
Relationships: Merus & Granolah
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	A Hundred Skyscrapers

A/N: I wrote this _before_ I knew Granolah had blue hair, so let’s pretend his hair is white.

“When you told me, I looked like an angel all those years ago, it wasn’t a compliment. Was it?”

Granolah stands crouched low—one hand poised to strike, the other held on his blaster. His blue eyes are glued to the Patrolman hovering above him.

“Why would that be a compliment?” When he asks earnestly why the most common pick-up line would be a compliment, Granolah pretty much knows his theory is confirmed. He learned all he could about Goku. He needed to if he wanted to kill him. That man is surrounded by the Divine.

Apparently, the Divine includes angels.

“No reason—”  
  
“I didn’t call you an angel. I said you almost looked like one. Because of your white hair.”

“My white hair, like yours.” It is more of a statement than it is a question. Granolah has seen _many_ a strange thing in his relatively long life. An angel, or at least a being who claims himself to be one, doesn’t even make that top of his list.

At least not yet. 

He remembers Agent Merus. He brought him in originally, threw his body into the cell while Granolah screamed for his life. Granolah recalls how trying to break free from Merus’s grasp was like trying to break apart kachin with your teeth.

But back then he was purple and did not have a ring of fire around his neck and a staff that emitted the _strangest_ type of energy Granolah had ever felt. And speaking of energy, he can’t feel Merus. Though his presence, levitating still in the air, purple eyes unblinking, is still very much there.

It’s like someone cut out a cardboard cartoon and glued it in the sky.

And maybe, just maybe, angels have reached the top of his list.

“You were not collected after Moro was defeated. Why?”

“Because you all can’t do your job.” Despite himself, he sneers at Merus.

“We captured you, didn’t we?”

“No, _you_ captured me. But you aren’t really Galactic Patrol, now are you?”  
  
At this, Granolah begins to plan his escape. Taking the shuttle is not an option. Not now. He could attempt instant transmission*. He spent a little while on Yardart to know the basics of it—the theory. But he hasn’t tried it yet. But who’s to say his attempts at escape wouldn’t be thwarted by the angel.

Still, he had to keep him—

“You’re trying to distract me. I can hear your thoughts.” The angel says from above, amused, “If you instant transmit, I will get to your location before you do.”

“Stay out of my head.” There is some _bite_ behind Granolah’s words, anger brimming just underneath the cool surface. He’s lost so, so much. From the Saiyans, from Galactic Patrol. He’ll fight for control of his thoughts.

“Apologies. You didn’t make that clear to begin with.”

“Well, most normal people don’t go searching around in people’s heads without asking for permission.”

“Most normal people are not escaped convicts from Galactic Patrol prisons, Granolah.”

“ _Well,_ most normal people didn’t have their worlds destroyed by apes.”

Merus stays utterly silent for some time, pale gaze never unwavering from Granolah.

“You mean to kill Goku and Vegeta.” He states plain and simple, “For what their fathers did to your people. I will not let you. Any attempt to harm either of them, and I will kill you. You cannot beat me. No mortal in existence can.”

“Well, you know how to twist a knife in a wound, don’t you?”

“I haven’t stab—”

“It’s a figure of speech.” Granolah cuts him off, “Have you lost anybody? Anything? Enough to make you _want_ to get vengeances?”

“I have lost much, yes. And I have acted on it. Almost always with consequence.” He replies without hesitation, and Granolah is almost jealous by the ease at which he can put his heart out like that. He wears his emotions on his sleeve. But his sleeve is one made of steel. But not such for Granolah.

“Then why are you stopping me? If you know what I feel like, why are you stopping me? Let me face the consequences? If those two kill me, then I would have at least _died_ trying to get my people back. I know I won’t win, but at least let me try.”

“No, Granolah. You will not die.” Merus seems to descend, his feet dangling just above Granolah’s head. Its this close that Granolah finally gets a good look at this man. He’s so young, no older than twenty-four in appearance. But his eyes, they tell a different story. An older story. And suddenly, Granolah feels scrutinized under his gaze. He feels fear.

  
But still, through cold blood and a thumping heart, he manages, “Why are you stopping me?”

“Because your purpose is not to die. Not for vengeance, not for your people. Your purpose is to live. To heal. To forgive.”

The anger that rises within him at that last word is unparalleled. He sees nothing but red and makes to unleash a fit of fury on the angel above him.

“Forgive? Who the hell am I supposed to forgive? Do you mean those beasts that killed my family? My people?”

“ I mean you, Granolah. Forgive yourself. For not saving your people, your friends, or your family. I’m no fool, and neither are you. Self-blame is what’s driven you for all these years.” Merus explains, “Self-blame will drive you to your death if you do not make peace with your past.”

Just as he makes to complain, to retort, to _beg_ the angel to stop, Merus raises a hand, “You have so much more to give than your death. You are a good man Granolah. So, I’m giving you this chance to live.”

It’s like the floor falls from beneath him, and he’s plunging deeper and deeper into the darkness. He swears he’s fallen the length of at least a hundred skyscrapers before he hits the ground again, and when he does collect himself, he does it alone.

The Galactic Patrolman, the angel, _Merus_ is nowhere to be seen. And Granolah is left alone on this dust ball of a planet somewhere in the midst out deep space. Its full of ruins, ancient and old. Ruins that look vaguely familiar.

“Gods above”, Granolah whispers to himself, taking in the scenery around him, “he brought me back home.”

-

So I have so many ideas for how this may go—Granolah restores his people. he clearly finds survivors on his planet, and instead of killing the Saiyans, he works to build up his civilization.

Merus checks in on him, he invites Merus for dinner, and eventually they’re back and forth in a casual relationship. Ideally, Merus also becomes Granolah’s advisor.


End file.
